


In Which Hulk Gets A Family

by AlexKingOfTheDamned, swimsalot



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Hulk, Clint Barton & Hulk Friendship, Hulk Feels, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/AlexKingOfTheDamned, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimsalot/pseuds/swimsalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of convincing, Bruce lets Hulk out for a day to play, under Clint's strict supervision. Hulk feeds ducks, plays frisbee, and finds out his favorite animal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Hulk Gets A Family

It took years. _Years._ Four, to be exact.

 

Tony originally had the idea. Not only was it a bad idea, but Bruce had discarded it at first just _because_ Tony came up with it, and any ideas of Tony's on the subject were almost always bad. He had good intentions, but it was one field in which he wasn't an expert, and probably never would be.

                           

But it got really bad when Clint heard about it. It was bad enough that he's persuasive at the best of time, but he was in a relationship with Bruce at the time and had been for almost a year. He had extra footing where Tony didn't. But still, Bruce refused.

 

Four years of coercing and cajoling and convincing and reasoning.

Bruce finally gave in on May 14th of 2017.

He was going to let the Hulk out.

 

A simple experiment.

"What happens if you let him out when you aren't angry?"

Brce had to admit he was interested when Tony first suggested it, but mostly in an objective, day-dreamy kind of way. He was much too convinced that it would go bad in practice, but in theory it was a nice fluffy thought that helped him get to sleep some nights when sleep eluded him - to think about the Hulk just walking down the street  and saying hello to people, unprovoked.

 

It wasn't until Tony finally - with the help of Clint and Thor - set up some real parameters.

 

Tony swore the Hulk wouldn't leave the tower, for one thing. Clint said he'd help distract the Hulk and keep him indoors, and Tony had a lockdown if all else failed and an air-released sedative that would knock out an elephant.

They even had a pair of pants custom-made that were hilariously oversized on Bruce, but would fit the Hulk just right. Clint reasoned that he'd be cranky all the time, too, if his balls were crushed into a space a third the size of what they required. They also managed to aquire a 4X black tee shirt that would probably fit a rhinocerous, and hung down past Bruce's knees.

 

It had never been so painless before. It's never comfortable, but the change wasn't rushed so his body grew naturally, and didn't have to shred any clothing in the process. The Hulk seemed genuinely confused when he realized he was awake, looking around like he was seeing the world for the first time. He always felt a purpose when he was released, but this time there was no danger or screaming or people who needed to help or people he needed to hurt.

 

Clint stayed back for a while, just outside the room where they had left Bruce to let the Hulk get comfortable with his surroundings. The poor guy was obviously confused and if Clint just rushed in he'd probably think there was trouble somewhere and they needed him to come save the city.

 

So he stayed in the hall watching the Hulk through the doorway. He hadn't started yelling or running around smashing anything. He hadn't even stood up yet. The Hulk slowly rose into a seated position, looking around like a child who'd fallen asleep on the couch only to wake up in bed. It was almost cute.

 

After a minute or two and the urging of Tony over the comms he slowly entered the room, making sure to great the Hulk with a wide smile.

 

"Hey big guy," he said, coming as close as he dared just yet. "How you feeling?"

 

Confused is the word that would have come to mind, if Hulk knew that word. He knew the feeling, but had no way to express it other than to pat his hair and groan a little in question.

 

“Fight?” he asked, looking around again to try and spot any dilemma, but everything seems calm and quiet.

 

"No fight." Clint answered with a grin. He held out a plate of peanut butter sandwiches he'd made earlier, knowing they were the Hulk's favorite. "How about a sandwich instead?"

 

Hulk looks at the plate stacked with sandwiches and then back at Clint’s face, his brow furrowed deeply. He scoots back on the carpet and draws his knees up to his chest.

 

“Trick. Trick Hulk,” he says with a little bit of a growl.

 

"Hey man. Way to be rude." Clint replies. He goes over to the wall and sits down, setting the plate beside him. "You know I wouldn't do that to you. I've made you sandwiches before haven't I?" Clint challenges, picking up one of the sandwiches. "But if you don't want them, more for me.”

 

Hulk whines and takes the sandwich before Clint can eat it, and puts it back on the plate. Clint laughs, but Hulk still seems anxious.

 

“Why here?” he asks. “Why Hulk here?”

 

Clint's smile droops a little. He feels bad for the Hulk. He only ever got to come out when there was some kind of trouble, like some kind of attack dog. He wouldn't even believe it when a friend told him there wasn't any need for him to fight.

 

"We just thought you might like it," he answered with as carefree a shrug as he could, trying to be convincing. "It's not really fair that you have to stay asleep all the time."

 

“Hulk always asleep,” the larger man replies, looking back at the sandwiches. “Hulk scary.”

 

"When we need you to be scary." Clint says, nudging the sandwiches towards Hulk. "We don't need you to be scary now. Have a sandwich, I know you're hungry."

 

Hulk finally picks up the plate and takes one of the sandwiches between two fingers. Clint had made sandwiches out of two whole loaves of bread, but he knows the Hulk never complains when he’s fed because he’s never really fed. Bruce does 99% of the eating for the both of them, even though Hulk ends up processing the majority of the calories.

 

He can eat them like chips, really, a whole sandwich at a time, and he keeps looking at Clint while he chews like he expects the other man at any moment to tell him that he was joking and there really is a fight and they should go.

 

"You want something to drink big guy?" Clint offers, hoping to put the Hulk at ease. "I think Thor left one of his monster tankards upstairs. I can get you some milk."

 

“Milk?” Hulk’s voice is a little garbled from all the peanut butter, and he’s currently trying to scrape it off his tongue with the roof of his mouth, but it isn’t working very well. He’s never had milk, personally, and it’s not like he can taste the things that Bruce eats, but he has a vague, general sense-memory of what milk is. “Can Hulk come?”

 

Clint grins and jumps to his feet. "Of course! We can go on a whole tour of the tower if you want."

 

Hulk doesn’t smile, but he gets up off the ground. That’s when he takes a moment to appraise the fact that he’s wearing clothing. He pats at his shirt and shakes out his legs, surprised to find breathing room in his pants. He tugs gently at the bottom of his shirt, which fits snugly but not uncomfortably on his massive frame. Very confused by this phenomena of being clothed, he turns his confused stare to Clint, unable to word his question.

 

Clint laughs. "We thought you might be sick of the tight pants so we had some made for you. And as comfortable you are with being shirtless we had one made for you. Thor was getting jealous of your abs. You like them?"

 

“Don’t know yet,” Hulk answers honestly. “Weird feeling.”  
  
He follows Clint up the stairs – since he decided Hulk in an elevator probably wasn’t safe, even if he’s in a benign state – and finds himself in the Avenger’s master suite. He’s never actually been here himself, but contains that same general sense-memory through Bruce’s interactions with the world. Enough that Clint notices the first thing he looks at is Bruce’s favorite arm chair, a ridiculously big plush brown suede thing that Bruce has fallen asleep in on multiple occasions.

 

He sits down next to it, because his hips are too wide to fit in the chair, and rests his chin on the arm rest.

 

“What’s milk?” he asks finally when Clint hoists the half-gallon wooden tankard onto the counter.

 

"It's a drink. You've had water right?" Clint asks and the Hulk nods. "Like that but it's a little thicker and it tastes better. And it's good for you. I keep telling Bruce to drink more because it'd make the change easier for you both but he never listens to me."

 

He fills up the tankard, finishing the jug of milk in the fridge and carries it over to the Hulk. "Drink up. You'll love it."

 

Hulk is a lot less messy than people seem to think he is, because he doesn’t dribble or slurp. Clint is always surprised by how delicate the Hulk can be, and then embarrassed with himself for not giving his big friend enough credit. He does burp, but anyone would after downing half a gallon of milk.

 

“So,” Hulk says, and it’s definitely the first time Clint has ever heard that word come out of the big green fellow’s mouth. It’s such a small word, but it carries such a weighted connotation, a sense of time and idea and progression of events that most people would never thing Hulk capable of. “What Hulk do now?”

 

"What do you _want_ to do?" Clint asks, sure no one has ever asked the Hulk this question before. Hulk always asks as they need him to our out of a sense of self defense. He's never had the chance to want to do something except when they lock him away and then he only wants to get out. "We can't go outside but you can go to the training room or just walk around or hey, go for a swim in the pool!"

 

“Outside?” Hulk turns to look at the window in the main room and heads up to it, coming so close that his breath fogs the glass. He wipes his hand over it to clear the mist and looks down at the city many stories below. “Why not outside?”

 

"If you go outside everyone is going to think something is wrong." Clint answers, joining Hulk at the window. "We don't want to start a panic. All those people yelling and running. You wouldn't like that, would you?"

 

“Hulk scary,” he says again, letting his forehead thunk gently against the glass.

 

"No! Well not always. You're pretty big man. And a little green. It's kind of weird." Clint admits, punching Hulk's arm gently. "But people are used to seeing you when we're under attack. They know you're going to help them but that means something has to be wrong first."

 

Hulk heaves a really big sigh and fogs the glass again, but leaves it this time.

 

“Pool,” he finally says.

 

Turns out the Hulk really enjoys swimming. He’s been in water a few times, but never leisurely. Clint teaches the big man how to remove his pants and shirt without ripping them, and they go skinny dipping. Because it’s much easier than trying to find swim trunks on the spot to fit the giant man, and Clint doesn’t want him to be embarrassed being the only one naked.

 

He doesn’t know if Hulk even has a sense of shame or embarrassment, but he doesn’t want to be the one to provoke it if he does.

 

Hulk doesn’t really know how to _swim_ as much as he knows how to not sink, so Clint teaches him a few basic strokes. Hulk is a really quick learner, it turns out, which makes sense considering Bruce has vehemently claimed that the Hulk has the constitution of a five year old, which is the age that children take in and process the most information.

 

Bruce has always said that the Hulk is dumb, but Clint thinks otherwise, seeing Hulk float on his back after only about 30 seconds of coaching.

 

"Doing great big guy!" Clint calls from the edge of the pool where he's sitting with only his feet in to give the Hulk as much room as he wants. Once he's a little more comfortable Clint will jump in too but he doesn't want to get in his way and accidentally get crushed against the wall or confuse him and make him lose his concentration. "I'll tell Tony to get a bigger pool and then I'll teach you how to do a cannon ball. It'll be epic."

 

Eventually Hulk drags Clint in with him and after a little struggling and a lot of laughter and splashing, Hulk gets Clint to lie on his chest as he floats around on his back. It’s comfortable for the both of them, and Hulk feels like such a solid, safe weight beneath him that Clint almost falls asleep listening to the drum of his heart and his breathing.

 

"You having fun yet man?" Clint asks after they drift for a while, picking his head up to look Hulk in the eye. "Because you're doing great so far. Keep it up and we can do this more often. Maybe even go outside as long as we give people some warning."

 

“Hulk wants outside,” he says, righting himself and lowering Clint so he doesn’t fall. “Hulk trapped here now.”

 

"Next time. We'll go outside next time." Clint promises. He'll make it happen too, even if he has to sneak Hulk out himself. "But we can have fun inside. We can play hide and seek. I'll win of course but it'll still be fun. Or we can watch movies. You've never seen a movie."

 

Hulk pulls himself up on the edge of the pool and swings his feet slowly through the water.

 

“But Cupid asked what Hulk wants. Hulk wants outside,” he looks up at the windows nearly at ceiling-level longingly, watching the clouds and a flock of birds fly by. “What if Hulk really quiet and not scary?”

 

Clint frowns and shakes his head. They'd promised Bruce they'd stay in the tower. He can't break his promise. Bruce will never forgive him and he loves Bruce too much to let that happen. But Hulk is so sad that it breaks his heart.

 

"How about we go up on the roof?" Clint suggests. "It's not the city but it's outside. Fresh air and we can watch the birds."

 

So Clint helps Hulk towel off – they need to use six separate towels to get him dry – and he teaches him how to put his clothes back on. Hulk struggles with the zipper so Clint has to help  him out, pleased with how well they really did fit him despite his massive dimensions. It was his idea to add hulk-size pockets, but they’re pretty much only for aesthetics anyway.

 

Hulk carries Clint up to the roof on his back, and they perch at the edge of the gravel, looking out on the city, and that’s when Hulk finally smiles.

 

“City safe,” he says calmly, his voice low and serious.

 

Clint looks up at him and is surprised to see that the Hulk looks...proud. Really proud, just like they all do when they've finished saving the day and get to sit back and enjoy the fact that they and the people around them are alive.

 

Hulk's never gotten that, Clint realizes. He never gets to see the after the battle. Bruce gets all of that. Bruce gets to relax and enjoy what they've done and how much they've accomplished before having "thank god we're alive" sex and going to bed. Hulk doesn't even get a thank you for all the hard work he does.

 

"Yeah. City safe," Clint says. "You helped with that, a lot. Thanks buddy."

 

“Hulk do that,” he points out at the buildings. “Safe because… because of Hulk.” He nods to himself, but then looks down at his hands, and then over at Clint. “So why city scared of Hulk?”

 

"You've done some damage in the past." Clint admits, not wanting to lie to Hulk. "But they aren't as scared of you anymore. Just what seeing you means. You mean there's danger around. You coming around means someone is attacking them. They're scared of what you mean, not just you. Do you understand?"

 

“But nobody attacking today,” Hulk points to the sky. “Clouds not evil.”

 

"Depends who you ask." Clint laughs, remembering a very uncomfortable jet ride with Tasha when they had to navigate through heavy clouds. "But just because they can't see the attack doesn't mean it's not happening. Or it could just be on the way. People are stupid Hulk. They get scared."

 

“Stupid?” Hulk says, shaking his head. “No. Not stupid. Stupid people don’t run.”

 

"Stupid people stay you mean?" Clint laughs. "Thanks man that's real nice. Just you wait ‘til I tell Tony."

 

“Not what Hulk meant!” the giant corrects loudly. “Hulk stays, but Hulk not stupid.”

 

"Hulk's bigger than half the things we fight and pretty much unbreakable. Not like me or Tony or Steve. We're pathetic, but we stay anyway." Clint smiles. "I guess it is pretty stupid."

 

“Not stupid. Brave,” Hulk claps Clint on the back to emphasize his point.

 

What happens next takes a couple seconds to register. He remembers patting Cupid’s back, and then suddenly no Cupid. It isn’t until he hears a shout that he realizes he “patted” Cupid right off the roof.

 

There's a heavy thump on his back, hard enough to hurt, and the next thing Clint knows there's wind rushing by his ears. He opens his eyes to see the roof of the tower growing farther and farther away and he realizes with a startled shout that he is going to die. Right now. This is it. After years of hating his life he's finally gotten everything together just to die because of a stupid accident. What the fuck?

 

But hey if he is gonna die there's not much he can do about it and hey, at least he's had a good day. It's not like dying tired and sweaty and aching in battle. He'd told Bruce he loves him before they left him alone to hulk out and got to spend a nice day with a friend. Not so bad even if it does have to end with a violent, very messy death and a close casket funeral. Could be worse he supposes, closing his eyes again.

 

The people on the ground first think that it’s Iron Man. Because Tony is melodramatic enough that he’s leapt off the roof to test his suits that come on command on multiple occasions.

 

It only takes a few seconds for the people to realize that it’s someone committing suicide, and that’s when the shouts start. Clint can’t hear them yet, but he will soon.

 

Then the shouts grow louder, and Clint feels a pair of warm arms close around him. He opens his eyes but all he can see is black – Hulk’s shirt, he realizes. And then they’re swinging, and Clint looks up to see that Hulk had grabbed onto what looks like a window washing station, which broke off of one of its cables as soon as he grabbed it. Rags and a bucket of water fall to the ground, but they’re easily avoided by the people on the ground, who are now watching in awe as the Hulk releases the station only a couple dozen feet off the ground, and they scramble out of the way to give him plenty of room to land. He takes out a fenced tree, but other than that, and the swinging window washing station which scratched the glass of a couple windows, Hulk did almost no damage.

 

Both of his arms are still tightly wrapped around Clint – but not too tight, because one of the very first things Clint taught him was how not to squeeze too tight – and he looks around to see people curiously and cautiously approaching.

 

"Fuck. Thanks Hulk." Clint says when he finally remembers to breathe. He wraps his arms around the Hulk as much as he can, hugging him back. "Thought I was a goner for sure."

 

“Hulk sorry, Hulk sorry, Hulk sorry,” he says quietly over and over again, but Clint doesn’t have a chance to respond because that’s when the clapping starts.

 

“Way to go!” he hears, and “Good job!” and “You got him!” and he doesn’t really understand what the people mean because he doesn’t know that they thought Clint was going to kill himself, but someone already called the police and Hulk can hear sirens in the distance. It’s all getting to be a little much, so he backs up, Clint still cradled against his chest with a hand on the smaller man’s back and under his bottom.

 

"Hulk, shhh," Clint soothes, running his hands over the Hulk's arms as much as he can. It always works to sooth Bruce when he's getting too stressed so it should work for the big guy too. "Nothing's wrong okay? You did good. You saved me, the police are just here to make sure no one is hurt. Everything is gonna be okay."

 

Hulk looks down at him with wide eyes, and he’s breathing a little harder. Clint can feel him shaking a little, with the restrained urge to yell and start running away. The people don’t crowd closer, which helps a little.

 

The police arrive and they pause at their cars, unwilling to venture any closer. One of them pulls out a megaphone and after a minor squeak, she says to the Hulk from about forty feet away,

 

“Please put down the man.”

 

Clint whips around as much as he can and yells out to them, "Put that damn thing away! You're freaking him out and making my hearing aids whistle."

 

Turning back to Hulk he forces a gentle smile. "Time to put me down Big Guy. I'm not hurt and I need to talk to these guys before someone starts calling up new stations, okay?"

 

Hulk is scared, and he wants to protect Clint now more than anything, but he trusts Clint more than anyone in the world – even more than himself with all of his impulses – so if Clint says it’s time to be put down then Hulk listens and obeys.

 

Clint's legs are shaky and he has to hold Hulk's arm for a few seconds while he gets his land legs back. He's soon steady again and he gives Hulk a reassuring pat on the arm before going to sort everything out with the police, a process made all the more difficult by the arrival of Tony and Steve who saw him fall past one of the windows.

 

“Is everything okay out here?” Tony asks, tapping on Hulk’s forearms with his knuckles. “What’s going on?”

 

“Hulk pushed Cupid,” Hulk says woefully. “Hulk sorry.”

 

"He didn't push me." Clint says. He doesn't want them to get the wrong idea and tranquilize Hulk for nothing. "He patted me on the back and I lost my balance. It was an accident. Not a suicide attempt and not a loss of control. Just a mistake."

 

The police eventually disperse after deciding they’d really rather not try to get a statement from the Hulk, and eventually the people lose interest, too. Hulk keeps patting Clint gently all over like he’s looking for injuries, repeating his apology ceaselessly.

 

“So are we going to get you back inside?” Tony asks.

 

Hulk gasps and looks around. “Hulk outside. Not scare people.”

 

Clint looks at Tony and Steve pleadingly. "He did save my life. And he's been good all day. Let him stay outside for a little while? We can make it a team outing?" he suggests, knowing how much Steve loves team building crap. "Just for a little while."

 

Steve clears his throat in that “I’m trying really hard to be reasonable” Steve way, but Tony interjects before he can stammer his way through an awkward statement.

 

“I don’t think it needs to be a team outing at all. I mean just look, the people are just walking around him. Sure, they’re probably going to stop and point and take pictures but Steve or I would get the exact same reaction if we went walking around suited up. This is just… Bruce’s suit. Granted, his “suit” has its own consciousness, but I think this right here proves that Jolly Green isn’t 100% rage. Might even be good for the public to see him like this,” he nudges Steve in the ribs.

 

Steve groans and looks up at the Hulk. “You’ll be good?”

 

“So good,” Hulk says.

 

"He will." Clint assures them. "Just promise me you'll tell Bruce you okayed this when he asks about it alright? I don't want to get in trouble."

 

“Deal,” Tony says, pushing at Steve to get him back inside before he can change his mind. “Go take him for a spin.”

 

Hulk seems overwhelmed at first. He’s never done a huge amount of walking, because he’s only ever out when they’re fighting, and jumping like an overgrown flea is a much faster way to travel. Walking is awkward for his proportions, and he stomps a little, but he’s not putting cracks in anything so it’s not too much of a problem. Clint just has to lead him around grates.

 

The people on the sidewalk part around him like the red sea, gasping and staring, and he tends to leave them motionless after they’ve gotten out of his way, but nobody follows them. Clint is constantly apologizing to people for the Hulk not really understanding sidewalk manners, but they all seem too stunned to be offended.

 

Just like Tony said, people are taking cell phone pictures right and left, and even though the Hulk doesn’t really know where he’s going, he’s going there with purpose anyway.

 

Clint leads Hulk through the area around the tower, keeping a careful look out for reporters or police or fellow SHIELD agents who might give them trouble. He even climbs up to sit on Hulk's shoulders for a while to get a better view and directs him with simple instructions so they head towards Central Park.

 

Hulk is very pleased to see all the green. He points at many green plants that he never gets the time to appreciate and declares that they’re ‘like him.’ A few people work up the nerve to ask for Clint to take their picture with the Hulk, and even though the big guy doesn’t really understand what is going on, he likes the way these people approach him with smiles and touch his arms.

 

Clint helps him feed ducks. He scatters the crumbs gently and squats down right near the bread, frowning when the ducks don’t approach. Clint helps him to shuffle back a little bit, and he’s delighted when dozens of tiny brown ducks waddle forward, warbling as they nibble at the crumbs Hulk scattered for them.

 

When they're done feeding the ducks Clint takes Hulk down to the Central Park zoo. It's relatively small but that doesn't dampen Hulk's enjoyment of the various animals, none of which he's seen before. Clint keeps a careful eye on him to make sure he doesn't get too close but there's really no need. Hulk is better behaved than a lot of the children running under foot and it warms Clint's heart to see him having so much fun.

 

Hulk declares that the alligator is his favorite and that he wants one of his own. Clint laughs and says he’ll talk to Tony about it, instead of telling Hulk that it’s not exactly a common pet to have.

 

Clint decides eventually that it’s time for lunch, and he uses his StarkCard to buy more than a dozen burgers for the Hulk, who eats in the grass happily listening to the various sounds of the animals.

 

A few kids come bravely over while they’re eating lunch and while the majority of them start climbing all over the Hulk, who handles them very gently despite his size, one girl of about seven or eight years old tells Clint that she’s got a crush on him and asks him to marry her.

 

He says she has to get her parents permission first but does grant the little dear a kiss on the head before sending her back to play with the others. Seeing them all clambering all over the Hulk and him happily playing with them, letting them hang off his arms and sit on his shoulders, is probably the cutest thing Clint has ever seen and he takes as many pictures as he can with his phone, as proof for Bruce that Hulk isn't as bad as he likes to think.

 

The children are eventually called away by their anxious parents, and Hulk and Clint leave the zoo. The kids all wave and call goodbye to Hulk, and he waves back.

 

After ten minutes of walking around, Hulk sees a circus tent set up and points to it excitedly, but when he turns around he sees a look of fear on Clint’s face. Thinking fast, he suddenly puts his body between Clint and the tent, and squats down so their faces are at the same level.

 

“Hulk remembers. Bad for Cupid,” he says, remarkably, proving that their really is a connection between himself and Bruce, because Clint has never talked to the Hulk about that.

 

Clint smiles and gives Hulk a quick hug. Even Tasha sometimes forgets just how bad his life with the circus was and how much it still haunts him. But Hulk remembers and chooses to protect him without even knowing the full story and that more than anything else proves just how human he really is to Clint.

 

"Thanks Hulk. How about we go the other way and get some ice cream instead huh?" Clint suggests. "Then maybe head back to the tower. I'm getting a little tired."

 

Ice cream leads to a frisbee game with a few young teens, which Hulk struggles with but has fun anyway, and Clint excels at. Then Hulk meets a dog, and emphatically declares that dog in particular is his favorite animal instead of the alligator. The owners of the dog are magnanimous in their willingness to allow the Hulk, the symbol of anger and destruction in New York City, to pick up their Australian shepherd. She doesn’t seem to find a difference between the Hulk and any other person that gives her attention, though, and licks his face anyway.

 

It’s closing in on six PM when Hulk finally claims that it’s really time to go back now, because his feet are getting cold and he’s tired, too. He ends up carrying Clint on his shoulders again, and he uses the stairs to take them up the tower. Sense-memory leads him right to the suite Bruce shares with Clint, and he lowers the man to the floor.

 

Clint has never been more happy that he and Bruce share a bed that has a full base instead of legs, because Hulk curls up right next to him, even though he takes up the majority of the bed, and he’s warmer than any blanket could ever be.

 

"You have fun?" Clint asks, flopping down on his back next to Hulk. "Because I had fun. And you did good. Keep it up and we can do this again. Maybe bring Thor along and you two can wrestle in the park or something."

 

“Hulk had fun because of Cupid,” Hulk says, bringing Clint in closer to his chest and turning on his side to maximize the space on the mattress. “Hulk loves Cupid.”

 

Clint grins because it's so against what everyone assumes is Hulk's nature. There's nothing angry or deadly or even possessive about it. He can feel the truth in Hulk's words. Hulk loves him as much as any of his other friends do. Maybe more and that's a depth of emotion no one would have thought Hulk capable of.

 

"Cupid loves Hulk too." Clint answers with a yawn.

 

But Hulk is already asleep when Clint looks up to see if he heard him. Oh well, he’ll just have to tell him some other time.

 

Before Clint realizes he fell asleep, he’s waking up next to Bruce, who has a good deal more stubble on his jaw than yesterday, and his hair is a mess. Shuffling in  his sleep caused his extremely oversized pants to inch down his legs where they’re now bunched around his ankles, and his enormous shirt hangs off of one shoulder. The corners of his lips are just barely turned up in his sleep, and Clint can see his eyes moving beneath their lids.

 

Clint sits up in bed, a wide grin spreading across his lips. He watches Bruce sleep for a while before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to those familiar soft lips to wake his beautiful scientist.

 

Bruce’s eyes flutter open after a moment and he gives a little sleepy noise, stretching out his back. He kicks the jumbo-sized pants off his legs and sits up, rubbing at his eyes as the giant shirt slips more fully off of one shoulder and pools in his lap.

 

“What time is it?” he asks through a yawn, squinting around the room.

 

“Three in the morning, Dr. Banner,” Jarvis answers before Clint needs to turn on any devices with a lit screen to check the time.

 

“Three AM? When did we go to sleep?” Bruce asks, a little bit more lucid.

 

"Seven-ish. You're probably starving huh? You want some 3 AM pancakes?" Clint offers before swooping down to steal another kiss. "I missed you yesterday. Not that it wasn't great to hang with Hulk but I have officially gone over 24 hours without sex and I'm dying."

 

“Pancakes can wait,” Bruce smiles sleepily, pulling Clint over on top of him, stealing a few more kisses which taste ever so faintly of ice cream. He’s feeling good right now, really, really incredibly good. And he realizes that he feels so good because the Hulk, wherever he’s housed in Bruce’s psyche, is calm and content and _happy_ in a way that Bruce has never known him to be.

 

And it’s all because of this brilliant, wonderful man lazily kissing him. A spike of love shoots through Bruce and he groans and deepens the kiss, sucking languidly at Clint’s lips and seizing his ass through his jeans to more fully seat his lover between his thighs.

 

"Love you so much Bruce." Clint whispers between kisses, his hands already opening his jeans so he can shimmy out of them. He pulls up to toss them aside and yanks off Bruce's over sized shirt so he can run his hands over his chest. "You're so beautiful."

 

They don’t usually take the time to have sex completely naked. There’s something so vulnerable about it and both of them have such deeply rooted trust issues, that they have a general unspoken rule between them that they don’t need to take off their clothes or talk about why they don’t take off their clothes.

 

But now is a good time to be naked with each other. Off comes the archer’s shirt and Bruce feels Clint’s body against his own, warm and hard with muscle but fluid with sleepiness, and he runs his hands along it with fascination.

 

Clint nuzzles Bruce's neck, pressing kisses along his jaw or collar bones when the mood strikes him. It's nice. Bruce is warm and relaxed and happy and he's just so pleased to have him here that there's no need to rush things. There's nothing hot and frenzied about their actions and yeah they need to do this more often.

 

"You look good all stubbly." Clint murmurs, rubbing Bruce's cheek with his forehead. "You should shave less."

 

“Okay, I’ll shave less,” Bruce giggles against Clint’s lips without any real conviction because he’d probably agree to just about anything with Clint grinding naked between his legs.

 

Clint hums in appreciation and gives Bruce another slow, soft kiss before pulling back to retrieve the lube from their bed side table.

 

"You wanna do it or you wanna watch?" he asks.

 

“I definitely want to do it,” Bruce mumbles, gesturing for Clint to sit on his hips. He draws the bigger man down for another slow kiss, keeping him in place by biting and sucking at his lips while he works the lube open behind Clint’s back.

 

He presses a hand to the middle of Clint’s back to flatten him against Bruce’s chest and gently urge him to stay still while he twists a finger into his lover, who immediately rewards Bruce’s effort with a whimper in his ear.

 

“You’re still loose from sleep,” Bruce praises, kissing Clint’s temple as he slides his finger in to the knuckle without a lick of resistance.

 

"Never really had a chance to tense up." Clint replies before nibbling Bruce's ear. "Good thing too. This'll be easy and we don't have to waste any time."

 

“Apart from slicking you up, I don’t think we’ll really need to prepare you all that much,” Bruce smirks, but then has to turn his head with a yawn and a laugh.

 

"Mmm, good. Cause I want you sooner rather than later." Clint replies, pressing back against Bruce's finger for a moment. "Want you to take me real slow. Wanna feel it."

 

Bruce spreads another generous dollop of lube inside Clint, Making sure he’s so wet he’s almost dripping, and then before either of them really take the time to process it, Bruce is sliding into Clint, stretching him wide around Bruce’s commendable girth. The connection is so slow and raw that they both let out a long, loud groan of pleasure, their pleasure spiking in unison.

 

"Fuck Bruce," Clint moans, burying his head in his lover's shoulder as Bruce sinks further and further into him. "' 'S so good. Love you so much."

 

Hearing Clint declare his love during sex is one of Bruce’s favorite things in the world. “Come on, sit up,” he encourages, until Clint is up on his knees, his sleepy hooded eyes burning down on Bruce. He squeezes a little bit more lube in his palm and closes his fingers around Clint’s heavy, hard cock. The lube makes the slide of his hand so much more velvety than spit or precome, and he loves the texture of it on Clint’s scalding skin.

 

Clint groans and tosses his head back, hips bucking forward in short little thrusts into Bruce's hand. It feels good so he keeps going, alternating between small thrusts and lazily grinding down on Bruce. "God that's perfect. You're perfect. Love you so much." he breathes, starting up a quiet litany.

 

Bruce takes over when Clint’s thighs get tired, jerking his hips up in what can’t exactly be called thrusts. This is nothing like the frantic, fervent fucking they usually partake in, or even the quick but passionate lovemaking they sometimes fall into. This is in a whole other realm of slow and steady.

 

There isn’t really so much of an in-and-out motion between them. The majority of their motion is geared towards slow grinding and stunted thrusts that never pull out or go in more than a couple inches at a time.

 

The pleasure mounts slowly, a steady building like the pressure before a storm rather than the usual crashing waves of ecstacy they've gotten used to. It's easier and more blissful than anything Clint has had before.

 

"I wanna come together." Clint says between moans and the soft kisses he leans down to press to Bruce's lips. "I want it to be in unison. Can we do that?"

 

“I think so,” Bruce mutters. “It might take a little time to get it just right, but time we have.”

 

They work at it, but it’s not exactly irritating to put effort towards a simultaneous orgasm. If Clint gets close but Bruce isn’t there yet, he’ll close his hand down around Clint’s cock hard and thrust a little faster so he gets closer, but when the wave of pleasure subsides from Clint as Bruce gets closer, he slows down and starts stroking his lover again.

 

With a gentle, determined rhythm and a little perseverance, they’re both mounting at the same time, moaning steadily louder, until they’re shouting each others names as they come, and come, and come.

 

Sated and happy Clint collapses on Bruce's chest, smiling and chuckling in hazy post-orgasmic bliss. After a few minutes he rolls to the side, letting Bruce's softening cock slip free. He snuggles up against his lover's side, wrapping an arm around him and holding him close.

 

"I liked that. That was good. We should do that more."

 

Bruce can’t help but agree as he wraps himself around Clint, arms and legs and hands and toes and he’s all smiles. “How about those pancakes?” he asks.

 

The tumble out of the bed together, taking one of the sheets with them, which Bruce wraps around himself like a cloak, hooded up on top of his head and bunched around his shoulders. He sits at one of the tall stools around the island counter as Clint turns on only the light above the stove – the only light needed.

 

They’re quiet for a while, only making noise when Clint turns around from the stovetop to smile at Bruce, and the scientist hums or huffs a sleepy little laugh.

 

It isn’t until the smell of pancake batter really starts to fill the air that Bruce finally speaks up.

 

“So… I guess there’s no use in me avoiding the subject. How was he? It can’t have been too bad if I didn’t wake up in prison.”

 

"Actually it was great. We had sandwiches and went swimming and he saved my life when I fell off the roof." Clint answers happily, pushing a plate of pancakes at Bruce. "Which was an accident by the way. Not me having a moment. Then we went to Central Park, an outing sanctioned by Cap so you can't get mad."

 

Bruce’s eyes go wide and his hand freezes in pursuit of maple syrup.

 

“Fell off a – _Central Park_ _?_ ” he stammers. “We went – you said – Steve let him out?!”

 

"Steve said he had been so good all day that it was alright to take him out for a while." Clint says with a nod. He grabs the maple syrup and pours it onto Bruce's pancakes for him.

 

"So we fed the ducks by the lake and went to the zoo and played with some kids for a while." Clint continues. He pulls out his phone and starts showing Bruce the pictures of all the kids climbing onto Hulk's shoulders and hanging off his arms. "He likes kids. Which is good news if we ever wanted to do the family thing."

 

The last part slipped out before he even realized he was thinking about it and his face instantly goes bright red. Bruce chokes on a mouthful of pancake. He gulps down some milk and then coughs into a napkin.

 

“Family?” he wheezes, clearing his throat and looking up at Clint. “You want – you want kids?”

 

"I-um- Maybe? If you do. I would want kids if you wanted kids. Or just one. Or a puppy, whatever really." Clint stammers, running back over to the counter where his own pancakes are waiting. "Just a thought. Never mind."

 

Bruce reaches across the counter when Clint sheepishly returns and takes his hands. He smiles at Clint even though he knows he’s a mess of sleepy, now-tearful eyes from his coughing fit, red cheeks from brief oxygen deprivation and messy stubble, because he can see the love in his archer’s eyes even through his embarrassed anxiousness.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, running his thumbs over Clint’s knuckles. “Let’s have kids.”


End file.
